


Nothing Left to Lose

by enigmaticblue



Series: Slow Burn Trilogy [3]
Category: Eureka
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-06
Updated: 2011-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack isn't the only one who's had a crappy day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Left to Lose

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt “loss of job/income”. This story goes AU during 2.02, “Try, Try Again.” Specifically, it assumes that the final scene between Nathan and Allison didn’t happen.

Jack climbs into his Jeep and tips his head back with a sigh. The headache that had come on so suddenly hadn’t been entirely unexpected. Between trying to save Fargo’s life, getting the cold shoulder from Allison, Zoe’s failing grade, and Stark leaving town, Jack would have been surprised if his head _hadn’t_ hurt.

 

It’s funny, Jack thinks. He’s been torn between Stark and Allison for a while. Just a couple of weeks ago, he’d teased Stark with the promise of dinner and drinks, and maybe more, but he hadn’t quite given up on Allison until today.

 

Her chilly attitude had said more than words. Maybe Jack had a shot before Allison’s promotion, but that’s changed. And now Stark is most likely leaving Eureka, taking all of Jack’s choices off the table—assuming he’d had a chance with either of them, of course.

 

Irony is a bitch.

 

Jack picks up the book he borrowed from Henry, wondering why it seems so familiar, and why some of his memories are so fuzzy. He rubs his eyes, his thoughts jumbling together. He can’t believe that just this morning he’d taken Allison’s call while still in the shower, or that he’d handed Zoe the keys to the car. He feels a surge of embarrassment after the fact, mixed with a heavy dose of confusion.

 

What the _hell_ had he been thinking?

 

Jack starts the engine on the Jeep and heads to Café Diem, thinking only about dinner and maybe a beer. Zoe had said she’d be home late, so Jack doesn’t feel any particular hurry to get home. He really doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts right now.

 

Jack’s momentarily distracted by the sight of Nathan Stark sitting at the bar, nursing a beer, when he walks into Café Diem. For a moment, he’s tempted to turn back around and ignore him, because he’s probably leaving Eureka soon anyway.

 

Then again, that just means that Jack has nothing left to lose.

 

He slides into the seat next to Stark. “You know, after the day you’ve had, I think I owe you a drink.”

 

Stark glances over at him. “I could use another.”

 

Jack waves at Vincent. “Two beers, Vince, and I’ll take a bacon cheeseburger and fries.”

 

“You’ve got it, Sheriff,” Vincent says.

 

The beers appear a few moments later, and Jack takes his first sip with a sigh of appreciation.

 

“How much longer are you going to be around?” Jack tries to keep his tone casual.

 

“Are you that anxious to get rid of me, Sheriff?” Stark asks, his mouth twisting into a wry smile.

 

Jack shrugs. “I’m just wondering how much time I have to consume those many, many drinks.”

 

Stark actually grins at the reminder. “Allison offered me a job. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet.”

 

Jack wants to ask if there’s anything he can do to convince Stark to leave, but he can’t quite manage it. They snipe at each other, that’s what they do, but Stark has to stick around for that.

 

Jack settles for saying, “What would you do if you’re not the head of GD?”

 

Stark shrugs, but there’s a flash of pain in his green eyes. “Research, I guess. Try not to get in Allie’s way too much. Why?”

 

“I’m just trying to figure out if you’re still going to be a thorn in my side,” Jack replies, and they’re back in familiar territory now.

 

Stark grins. “It’s what I live for, Sheriff. You going to convince me to stay?”

 

“Do I have a shot?” Jack asks, grateful that he doesn’t sound too hopeful.

 

Stark smiles. “That would depend entirely on how many drinks you buy me.”

 

Jack eats his burger and drinks his beer. Eventually, Stark asks for Vincent’s evening special—lobster risotto—and Vincent brings a bottle of white wine he insists is the perfect pairing. Jack suspects Vincent is greasing the skids, especially when he deposits a second glass in front of Jack. He doesn’t normally drink white wine, but he lets Stark fill his glass a couple of times to be companionable. By the time they finish their meals and the bottle, Jack is pleasantly buzzed.

 

“I still have my place for the time being,” Stark says, sounding almost diffident, which is unusual since his ego precedes him wherever he goes. “And I’ve got a bottle of whiskey.”

 

Some reasonable part of Jack’s brain tells him that this is a bad idea. He should wish Stark luck and head home. That part of him is drowned out by the alcohol and the desire to take the opportunity presented.

 

“Sounds good,” Jack replies. “You still owe me a few drinks.”

 

“I don’t have a concussion this time,” Stark warns him. “And I’m not hypothermic. I don’t need your help or your pity.”

 

“No, you’re just a guy who’s had a crappy day,” Jack says easily. “You’re not the only one.”

 

Stark smiles then, sharp-edged and dangerous. “Then I think we understand each other perfectly.”

 

~~~~~

 

Allison’s job offer stings; it feels more like a consolation prize than anything else, a sop to his hurt feelings. Nathan knows he fucked up, and Kim’s death is going to be his burden to bear for a long time to come.

 

But he also feels cheated, because he knows that if they had gotten more information about the Artifact, if it hadn’t been destroyed, Nathan wouldn’t have lost his job, although he might have received a slap on the wrist.

 

Then again, Nathan feels guilty enough over Kim’s death that there’s a part of him that welcomes the punishment, but he’s not thrilled that the DOD put Allison in charge. She can do the job, but working for his ex-wife doesn’t sound all that appealing.

 

He’s not quite sure why he goes to Café Diem rather than heading straight home after saving Fargo, but when Carter slides onto the stool next to Nathan, he’s glad he followed his impulse. Ever since Callister, their interactions are less malicious and more playful, and while Nathan will never admit it, he enjoys working with the sheriff.

 

And Nathan can admit, if only to himself, that Jack Carter would be one of the things about Eureka he’d miss most.

 

Over dinner and drinks, exchanging verbal barbs with Carter, Nathan relaxes for the first time in days, which is largely what leads him to extend the invitation. Nathan can read sympathy in Carter’s eyes, and a healthy dose of desire, but there’s no pity.

 

Anticipation curls low in Nathan’s abdomen as they walk to his house, and Nathan listens in as Carter leaves a message for Zoe letting her know that he probably won’t be home. Nathan has no illusions about what’s going to happen, and the alcohol buzz makes the wanting all the sweeter.

 

They’ve been dancing around this thing for months now, ever since Carter stayed with him after his exposure to the cryogenic fluid. And whether he stays or goes, Nathan figures he’s got nothing left to lose, and he’s got an itch he’d really like to scratch.

 

Carter follows him into the house, hands in his pockets. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

 

Nathan looks around at the dust and the clutter and shrugs. “I haven’t been home much.”

 

Carter smiles. “Not like it matters. Just tell me your sheets are reasonably clean.”

 

“Reasonably,” Nathan confirms. “You want that drink now?”

 

“That’ll do to start with,” Carter says easily.

 

Nathan pours each of them a stiff drink, and Carter smiles appreciatively after the first sip. “This is good stuff.”

 

“I didn’t know you were a whiskey connoisseur, Sheriff.”

 

“I usually drink beer, but I like whiskey,” he replies. “And I think, under the circumstances, you can call me Jack.”

 

“Jack,” Nathan confirms, and then he surges forward, impatient for his dessert.

 

Jack’s lips stretch in a grin against Nathan’s mouth, and he grips the back of Nathan’s head with his free hand, giving a brief tug on Nathan’s hair. “Hang on,” Jack murmurs, pulling back just long enough to slam the rest of his drink, and then he gives Nathan a challenging look. “Drink up, Nathan. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

 

Nathan maintains eye contact as he tosses back the whiskey, and then he sets his glass next to Jack’s on the counter. “You know where the bedroom is,” Nathan says, acknowledging that Jack has spent the night with him before.

 

Jack grins and leads the way upstairs. Nathan enjoys the view; Jack’s uniform does a lot for his ass.

 

Jack stops inside the bedroom door, giving Nathan a sharp look. “I want to be sure we’re on the same page, Nathan.”

 

Nathan has to admit that he likes his name coming out of Jack’s mouth. “I think we’re on the same page,” he replies. “We’ve been dancing around this for a while.”

 

“I guess we have.” This time it’s Jack who closes the distance, his hands on either side of Nathan’s face, his mouth demanding.

 

Nathan can tell immediately that Jack isn’t one to cede control easily, and that this is going to be hot, rough sex.

 

It’s just what he needs.

 

They battle for control, and Jack pushes Nathan’s jacket off his shoulders onto the floor, fumbling with his belt buckle, undoing buttons from the bottom up.

 

Nathan is momentarily stymied by Jack’s gun belt, but Jack takes a break from undressing Nathan to remove it and set it gently on the floor. “I should lock that up,” Jack murmurs.

 

“Nobody’s going to touch it,” Nathan replies. “ _Jack_.”

 

Jack grins and pulls his uniform shirt out of his pants. “I have your word on that?”

 

“Absolutely.” Nathan is more interested in getting Jack naked than in his gun, and he goes to work on the buttons on Jack’s shirt. “You promised.”

 

“Technically, I didn’t,” Jack replies, but he lets Nathan push his uniform shirt off his shoulders, and pulls his undershirt off over his head.

 

The expanse of smooth, tanned skin just sharpens Nathan’s desire, and he mouths Jack’s neck. Jack pulls back to finish undressing Nathan.

 

Then it’s skin on skin, and they’re both battling for control. Jack’s hands are everywhere, running over Nathan’s chest, unfastening Nathan’s trousers, shoving his hands down Nathan’s boxer-briefs to grab his ass.

 

Nathan returns Jack’s actions in kind, and soon they’re both naked, sprawled out on the bed, biting, sucking, touching. They roll across the bed, neither of them willing to give up control. Jack gets a hand between them, fisting Nathan’s cock with just the right amount of pressure to make Nathan gasp.

 

Nathan sprawls boneless across the bed, and Jack grins triumphantly above him, working Nathan’s cock with a firm, easy rhythm. It’s been far too long since Nathan has shared his bed with anyone else—and he’s not counting the night Jack spent with him.

 

Nathan’s back arches as he comes over Jack’s fist, and he collapses on the bed. “You’ve done that before,” he says, his voice holding a note of accusation.

 

Jack grins above him. “Well, I’ve practiced on myself plenty over the last year, but yeah, I’ve fooled around before.”

 

“What do you want?” Nathan asks. He’s feeling so good right now, he’d promise just about anything. “Do you want to fuck me?”

 

Jack’s eyes darken with arousal. “You sure?”

 

The thought already has Nathan’s spent cock twitching. “I’m sure. There are supplies in the bedside drawer.”

 

Jack grins wolfishly. “Good thing for you I’ve done this before.”

 

He takes his time prepping Nathan, and by the time Jack rolls the condom on, Nathan is half-hard again. Jack pushes Nathan to roll over and then enters Nathan slowly—so slowly that Nathan finally pushes back impatiently.

 

Jack groans. “Shit, Nathan.”

 

“Jack, _move_ ,” Nathan demands.

 

Jack begins to pump his hips, moving faster and harder. Nathan shifts slightly, and now Jack is hitting his prostate with every stroke. Nathan is hard and leaking, and Jack reaches around, pumping Nathan’s cock in rhythm with his hips.

 

Jack’s hips stutter, losing the rhythm, and knowing that Jack is coming sends Nathan over the edge.

 

It’s been a long time since Nathan has had sex with anyone other than his right hand, and it’s been a _really_ long time since he’s come twice so quickly.

 

Jack pulls out with a sigh, stretching out on Nathan’s bed. Nathan rouses himself with some effort, rolling out of bed and grabbing a warm, wet cloth. He cleans himself off and brings the washcloth to Jack, who’s already disposed of the condom.

 

“Just drop it on the floor,” Nathan advises when Jack holds out the washcloth. “I don’t care.”

 

“Maybe you should,” Jack replies, but he drops it. “You okay?”

 

“More than,” he replies. Maybe he hadn’t planned on bottoming, but it had felt fucking fantastic. “You going to stick around?”

 

“I should be asking you that,” Jack replies, and Nathan is fairly certain that Jack has deliberately misunderstood him. “You’re the one who’s leaving.”

 

San Francisco no longer holds quite the same appeal that it had a few hours ago, Nathan thinks. “Actually, I think I’ll stay.”

 

He glances over in time to see the goofy grin cross Jack’s face. “Good,” is all Jack will say, however. “That’s good. I’m sure Eureka could use you.”

 

“It’s not Eureka I’m worried about,” Nathan confesses in a fit of honesty.

 

For a moment, he’s afraid he’s pushed too hard, but Jack just smiles smugly. “Is that right?”

 

“So, are you going to stick around?” Nathan repeats, because he’s not quite ready for Jack to leave.

 

“I think so.” Jack rolls over, moving into Nathan’s space as though he belongs there.

 

Nathan thinks he probably does, and he pulls Jack close, until they’re cheek to cheek, limbs tangled, personal space forgotten. He takes a deep breath, smelling Jack’s shampoo and aftershave, and for once, he’s content. “Go to sleep, Jack,” he advises.

 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Jack objects, but since he’s asleep moments later, Nathan doesn’t pay that much attention.

 

This thing between them is new and fragile, and probably a terrible idea, but Nathan has no regrets.

 

They’ll fight, of course. They’ll argue and shout, and they’ll probably fuck this whole thing up, but this thing with Jack feels rough and real and _right_.

 

At the moment, that’s all that matters.


End file.
